


A Stormy Night

by rootelea



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: AU, Abuse, CJ is around 14, Child Abuse, Death, Drug Use, Harry Is Conflicted, Harry is about 17, death of a minor, their upbringing has resulted in a much more obvious effect, v angsty, v sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rootelea/pseuds/rootelea
Summary: Harry never meant for anything bad to happen. He was just hanging on to the hope that things could be the way they used to be. That his father would change. He never prepared for his optimism to result in traumatising consequences





	A Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry in advance, it's an angsty one. If you haven't come from my tumblr it's: thomasdohertyy. I'm over there a lot posting thomas things and sometimes little oneshots so say hello if you like :) This little oneshot is obviously inspired by Detroit: Become Human. I really like mashing that world and some of the stories with Descendants, so I may write more of it in the future. Let me know what you think!

Red Ice. The drug of choice for the underclass. The Hook household was practically swarmed by the smell. Side effects include agitation, irrational thinking and a destabilizing effect on hormone production.

Harry stared aimlessly at the home phone, the dim light of the buttons on its stand bringing colour to the dull room. The light in the kitchen had been flickering and he’d resorted to just turning it off, unable to take it. It had been 20 minutes since Harriet had hung up the phone and he hadn’t moved. Where could he go? CJ was upstairs, and to get there he’d have to pass who his dad, who was sat on the sofa surrounded by clouds of ruby smoke from inhaling heaps of red ice. He had a plentiful supply, thanks to the almost infinite amount of dealers in their rundown neighbourhood. The police would go door to door often, asking if anybody knew anything. James would always stuff Harry’s mattress with the small plastic bags of it afterwards, to keep his ‘precious stock safe’.

Harriet had left the first chance she got. She still kept in contact with her siblings, or at least she tried to. A lot of the time their father would make it to the phone before Harry or CJ got the chance, and that meant the phone would be unplugged for a week. Harry would leave too if it wasn’t for his little sister. Their mother had wracked into their brains when they were little that family came first. That they had to stick together. And Harry didn’t want to give up hope in his father, he refused to believe the man was a lost cause. He just needed some guidance. Things would be alright someday. Harriet would come home. James would be sober. CJ would smile again. Harry would get a good nights sleep.

It was thundering outside, drowning the white noise of the TV in the background. Harry simply tuned into the rain and tried to forget everything.

“He’s doing it again.” Came a small mumble. Harry turned to face the doorway. CJ was standing there, fiddling with her hands, staring down at the dirty tiled floor. Harry simply nodded. There wasn’t much to say. She walked to stand by the sink, picking up plates which Harry had already cleaned and running them under the tap, scrubbing at them with a wet cloth. "We could run, right now." She whispered, still scrubbing the exact same spot of the plate. Harry slowly turned around, raising an eyebrow. 

"Not this again-"

"Right now. Whilst he's too out of it to care. Out the back door and over the fence. I have spare change. There's a bus that comes every 15 minutes." CJ raised her voice a little, desperate to prove a point. Harry couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes, which begged for freedom. Begged to leave right then and there. He knew she wouldn't go alone.

"Cal... we can't. He needs us. And we need him. Where would we go if we left? Harriet's still barely getting by she can't provide for the three of us."

"I would get a job. You could too!" At this point she had put down the plate and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "Harry..." she looked over his shoulder and through the open door, watching her father slump on the couch. "I'm scared."

Harry wrapped his arms around the smaller girl, who willingly held onto him. He was all she had, and he felt the same. But Harry just wouldn't give up hope. He would remember the old days and cling on to this vision, this fantasy. This picture perfect family because he needed his father. He needed that love and that attention and that pride. He wanted to make his mother proud. Be the man of the house who stepped up and made everything okay again when it was falling apart. "3 weeks Cal. 3 weeks and then we'll go." Was the only thing he could think to say, calloused hands keeping a hold of her shoulders.

"That's what you said last time." She huffed. Her expression showed hurt. Betrayal. Fear. He bit his lip, watching as she walked through the living room to sit at the dining table, walking against the wall furthest away from an asleep James. Harry took a deep breath, carrying three plates of microwaved dinner on the table. He could feel CJ's eyes burning into the back of his head as he cautiously approached the slumbering beast. 

"Dad."

An incoherent grumble.

"Dad. I made dinner." He tried again, taking a small step closer, causing CJ to tense. She still remembered the lashing out he'd done once he woke up to Harry right in his face. Another call of his name and James slowly stirred, grumbling some more inaudible nonsense, his spinning vision settling on his son. 

"The fuck do you want?" He growled out, although it was clear he had heard Harry, as he stood up and brushed down his shirt before making his way over to the table. He took the seat at the head of the table, as always, with Harry at the other end and CJ at the side. The side opposite CJ sat an empty chair. Harriet's chair. "When the hell is your sister coming for dinner?" James groaned, taking a large mouthful of the food on his plate, his expression unpleasant. CJ said nothing, only picked at her food with her fork.

"She isn't coming Dad. Remember? She cancelled because of her boyfriend making plans-"

"Well good. Because she's not welcome here. We're doing just fine." Another large mouthful. 

Silence. Nothing but the sound of the rain drumming on the windows and the roof above their heads. The roof that Harry still hadn't finished fixing. His father had made them swap rooms after feeling the leak and refused to spend money on getting it fixed when Harry could learn and do it for free. Free at his expense. Harry was still saving up to buy the tools.

"Why are you so quiet?" James said suddenly, staring directly at CJ, who froze up immediately. Her eyes flickered to the side to catch Harry's gaze. He opened his mouth to divert the subject but didn't get the chance. "And why the fuck aren't you eating?!" 

CJ took a small mouthful, chewing for a while and reluctantly swallowing it down before answering. "I'm not hungry."

"Ungrateful shit."

Harry took another deep breath, itching to get the phone and call Harriet. To unlock the back door and climb the fence just like Cal wanted. And it was so clear she was thinking the same because her eyes kept darting to the windows, where the doom and gloom of a thunderstorm seemed like a paradise compared to the storm which was caged in the walls of the house. But his feet were rooted to the weathered floorboards.

She put her cutlery down altogether, causing her father to let out a rude, loud scoff. "Please, may I excuse myself?"

"Don't you think I tried to make this work?" Hook jumped up all of a sudden, his chair scraping the floor, his fist slamming down on the table. "Don't you?" 

CJ nodded feverishly, cowering back in her chair. Her eyes that had once been alive with excitement and curiosity and mischief were flickering with fear and pain at every word he spat in her direction. Harry's hands clenched onto the table. Deep breaths. More and more.

"You hate me don't you? YOU HATE ME." Hook threw his chair back behind him, both siblings jumping up in surprise. She didn't have a chance to run as he came towards her, grabbing a hold of her arms and shaking her violently. He smelled of nothing but red ice. CJ screamed as he yelled in her face, screamed with a rageful hatred and disgust. Reduced her to nothing. She tried to escape, thrashing her arms around desperately in an attempt to make him let go. She managed to squirm her way out of his clutches, her arm swinging to hit Hook's jaw and pushing him back, giving her the time to run upstairs and lock herself in her room. Her safe place. Pictures of Harriet. Pictures of Harry. Pictures of mother. Pictures of her smiling. Looking at anything and everything to stop the sobbing, screaming for someone to protect her.

Harry's hands were shaking, turning to the stairs but his father beat him to it, grabbing him by the back of his hair. "Listen, Harry." He growled lowly, the voice dripping with venom that made everything go cold. "Don't you make a move up those stairs do you understand me? One move out of line kid. One move." Each word lacing with poison. "Clean this up. The dishes. The fucking chair. All of this." Harry bit his lip to hold back his tortured cry as his father yanked his hair, pulling him back so aggresively that he fell to the floor beside the broken chair. His father retreated to the living room, pacing back and forth.

Another hit of red ice.

Another drink of beer.

Harry tried to block out the screaming. The quicker he fixed this the easier it would be to slip upstairs. Cal could hold on just a little while longer. Poking his nose in would make things worse. Sooner or later his father would come down from his high and run upstairs with tear stained cheeks to wrap his arms around his daughter, choking out apologies and begging for forgiveness like he always did. He tried not to imagine CJ, curled up under the covers rocking back and forth and begging for mercy. Begging to be anywhere but home. This house was not home. It was hell.

"When will she stop FUCKING SCREAMING!" Hook raised his voice at the end, most likely in the hope that CJ would hear and that she would stop. Harry silently prayed that she did, but the screaming continued. The neighbours would surely hear. Harry felt like a fly on the wall, looking back and forth between the stairs and his father. Watching a scene play out. He simply moved around the space, tidying up. 

Go up there, Harry.

Now. You have to go now.

But he couldn't. It was like there was a physical barrier between himself and his sister. He didn't have the strength to break it down. He carried the stack of plates to the kitchen, head down at the sink as he started to wash them just like CJ did. Not really watching where the cloth was moving. Staring at the wall with blank eyes. 

"DADDY IS VERY ANGRY." Was all he could hear. That and more screaming. And the hammering of the rain. "YOU NEVER STOP DO YOU? NEVER EVER EVER.IT'S YOUR FAULT. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT DO YOU SEE THIS? DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" 

A clap of thunder.

He listened carefully, hearing the sound of his father unbuckling his belt and removing it from his pants. An alarm started to ring in Harry's head.

_Warn her. Help her. Do something Harry you have to do something._

His father was already slowly making his way up the stairs, whipping the wall with the belt in anticipation. "DADDY'S GONNA TEACH YOU A LESSON."

Maybe Harry could call Harriet? Now that his father was out of earshot it was worth a try.

_What was she going to do?_

**"The best out of 3. Leave a message."**  was the voicemail Harry was left with after seconds of dull rings. His hands were shaking so violently that he dropped the phone, watching it fall to the ground. His hands gripped on to the kitchen counter so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His head was spinning. He heard the sound of CJ's door flying open with force, his feet stumbling towards the stairs. 

"HARRY." It was a scream he'd never be able to forget. "HARRY PLEASE." Thunder. A bloodcurdling shriek. She was just a little girl. A little girl who was scared of dying. A little girl who woke up every day wondering when the storm would finally come. Lightning. 

Harry dragged his feet up the stairs, wanting the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. He let out his own screams, begging for the nightmare to end. Begging for everybody to stop. They could play happy family all day. They could hold hands and dance in circles but at the end of the day, it was inevitable. James Hook was a mess. A mess that Harry had allowed to manipulate and control him. A mess that Harry had accepted with open arms around the barrier he imagined to protect so fiercely that contained his sister. She could have ran on her own but she had stayed for him. His head was pounding. His body was wracked and weighed down with guilt and pain and the realisation that it would never be okay. That's how it felt to him now. In that moment.

In the moment the screaming stopped. Harry froze, metres away from CJ's bedroom door. Where he would sleep some nights when she was afraid or lonely. CJ's bedroom, where he would tell her stories of a better life. The happiest place in a dull house, alive with colour and pictures and paintings and posters. Alive with innocence. Calista Jane's own little bubble.

Lightning illuminated the hallway every now and then as he slowly approached the door, hand outstretched for the handle. He pushed it open, ever so slowly. 

The room was destroyed. Paintings torn. Faces on photos unrecognisable. The safe haven was destroyed. Harry's world was destroyed. Because stood there, in the middle of the room was James Hook, cradling the body of his sister. Her neck was marked by two large hand shaped bruises, her mouth and eyes wide open, her cheeks shimmering with wet tears. Cries for help.

"Daddy isn't angry anymore." He whispered shakily, bending down to lay her in bed. Tucking her in, kissing her forehead. "Daddy loves you. You know daddy loves you."

Harry stared into the lifeless eyes of his little sister. He didn't listen. He didn't do anything. Anything at all. Selfish. Stupid. Selfish. Stupid. 

"It's your fault." Hook choked out and only then did Harry realise the dark look in his father's eyes as he stood up to face him. Stand up tall and proud Harry, just like mummy always said. But he couldn't. Selfish. That was the word in his head he couldn't stop thinking about. He was so obsessed with his desire to make somebody proud of him, to make his father love him. 

She was just a little girl. It should have been him.

He stumbled back, not wasting a second as he ran down the stairs, through the kitchen and out into the back garden. He could hear the sound of footsteps following him down the stairs and he wasted no time in climbing the oak tree in their garden, crawling along a branch so he could get over the fence. The rain crashed down on him, the sounds of the storm mixing with the screams of his name. He ran down the street, not stopping until he saw the night bus. 

He watched out a blurry window as the bus drove by a sea of identical houses to his own, taking a moment to let the night settle in. The bus was empty except for himself. 

And he started to sob. 

 


End file.
